


The gold

by thepilot



Category: The Sisters Brothers (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chemicalhusbands, M/M, Spoiler free because it's a modern AU and canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepilot/pseuds/thepilot
Summary: Modern Setting, alternate universe. John Morris, freelance writer, offers to help his coffee shop companion Hermann Warm after an unfortunate frappuccino accident.





	The gold

**Author's Note:**

> A modern AU? WHAT??? 
> 
> A huge HUGE thank you to [rogueshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows/profile)  
> for being my beta on this! 
> 
> I wanted to write more for Morris and Warm, because they just deserve to be happy and safe.

John sipped his fifth cup of regular coffee that morning, his hands already trembling from the caffeine. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were meticulously rolled up and the tips of his Clarks boots crept into the aisle, creating a long line down from his ripped denim jeans. He set his cup on the table gingerly and smiled at the masterpiece splayed out before him. The scent of the ink on his notebook pages wafted to his nose, his hand brushing over the bumps of the bruised pages lovingly. John didn't even really care if the poems and stories got published: their completion was more than enough satisfaction for him at the moment. That was, until the subject of his current scribblings walked in.

John Morris had been observing a man every single day for the past year. A year was perhaps a long time to pine without getting the courage to ask the fellow out, but John had at least graduated from a quick smile, to saying hello, to even sitting with him when he was feeling especially brave.

“ _You're here everyday. The same time as me. And you always give me such a polite smile. Not one of those smiles you do because of societal obligations, but a genuine, ‘I'm happy to see you’ smile.”_

“ _I am happy to see you.” John suddenly blanched at his own words, horrified that they may have come off as forward._

_“Then I'm happy to see you, too. I'm Hermann Warm,” the man said, holding out his hand, setting his coffee down on the table where John sat._

“ _John. John Morris. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Warm.” John realized he was still holding Hermann’s hand and smiling. He shook his head as he pulled his hand away. “Forgive me. This is the first time we’ve exchanged more than a few words but I feel like we’re old friends.” Hermann had smiled back, sitting across from John and sipping his coffee loudly but not saying a word. He'd pointed at John’s notebook, his brow creasing._

_“You're always writing. What are you writing about?”_

_John shrugged, picking up his notebook and flipping through the pages. “Depends. I find myself concluding a short story about a duck I once encountered at present.”_

_Hermann’s eyes grew impossibly large as he leaned forward. “And what happened to the duck?”_

“ _Nothing,” John shrugged. “I observed her for a day while she went about her business. I watched her interact with park goers, other waterfowl, how she preened herself, and then she finally left in the evening.”_

_“The whole day? That's a long time,” Hermann commented. John smiled again._

“ _To her, it was just another day. To me, it was an opportunity to forget about life for a while and pay attention to another living creature.”_

_Hermann furrowed his brow in thought as he sipped his coffee noisily again. “What else have you written about?”_

_John blushed, pulling his notebook in tight as he recalled fondly. “That is for me to know. A question for you instead: what brings you here the same time every day?”_

“ _This is my favorite time of day. It's not too early, and it's not too late. I feel like I can still accomplish something if I set a goal to get coffee at the same time every day.”_

“ _And do you find that you accomplish all that you mean to?” John asked casually. Hermann blushed at the question but didn’t falter._

_“No. I'm...I’m not currently employed. Full-time, I mean. That's not a life for me. At least not right now.”_

_John nodded in understanding. “It is not a life for me, either. I'm a freelance writer.”_

_Hermann grinned then, leaning across the table, the scent of aftershave and coffee emanating off of him. He spoke almost conspiratorially._

_“We have a lot in common.”_

Following this first introduction, they would sometimes sit together, and sometimes Hermann would smile and nod and sit down across from John, simply watching him write. The intrusive sipping would normally drive John insane were it to come from anyone else, but it was endearing coming from Hermann.

John smiled as Hermann passed his table to the counter, ordering his usual medium coffee with soy milk on the side (not that John had memorized his order), observing his choice outfit for the day. He wore the same faded blue jeans he always did, worn converse sneakers, and a faded pop culture t-shirt John was sure depicted a reference only Hermann understood. His signature red suspenders were clipped in place as always.

“Shit, I left my wallet at home,” Hermann moaned as he backed away from the counter, clearly embarrassed by his lack of funds. John stood up, his wallet already opened and his body blocking Hermann from leaving. “Allow me, please, I insist.”

Hermann attempted to discourage the gesture, but lost in the end as John proceeded to not only buy him his coffee, but throw in a gift card. Hermann’s face had turned a dark crimson and his brows were knotted together.

“That really wasn't necessary. I have the money, you didn't have to do that.”

John smiled as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket with a shrug, taking Hermann’s drink and handing it to him after the barista placed it on the counter. “We’re friends. Think of it as an early present.”

“For what? My birthday isn’t for another few months.”

“Well, perhaps you can use that gift card to buy me a coffee next time. We can share it together.”

Hermann slipped into the seat across from John and nodded, seemingly appeased by the response. He leaned back, watching John who was again trailing his fingers over the imprinted sentences he'd finally completed. Hermann didn't say anything at first, he just sipped (loudly) and watched. A few moments passed between them before Hermann cleared his throat.

“Do you ever go to parties?”

John looked up, his cheeks flushing at the out of the blue inquiry. He was too old for parties, or rather he felt too old, but the idea of going to one with Hermann was, well, enticing. It made him feel wanted, for once.

“No, no not usually. I prefer books to that sort of thing. Unless of course, you were asking, because-”

“Oh no, I wasn't invited to a party. I was just asking if you go to them,” Warm shrugged. He was looking down at his coffee cup, his thumb rubbing over the lid. He seemed disappointed in John’s response, as if he'd been trying to get asked out.

John couldn't help but feel sorry for his dear, attractive, coffee companion. He was beginning to wonder if he had any friends at all. Hermann sighed and straightened up, as though he was making to leave: now seemed as good a time as any for John to finally pluck up the courage and ask the man out. He cleared his throat and looked up sheepishly, idly picking at the edges of his notebook and letting them slide past his fingers.

“Perhaps...Perhaps we could at least go out together, sometime? Aside from coffee, I mean.”

Hermann seemed to be processing the offer slowly, as if he had to work out a hidden meaning. A smile crept across his face, his eyes beaming and his manicured mustache turning up at the corners.

“Y-yes. Sure? Yes. I would like that. Love that. I...I’ll see you later.”

Hermann stood up suddenly, still grinning, pushing in his chair and heading towards the door. John couldn't help but smile fondly at the man. Behavior like this wasn't entirely unexpected.

“Hermann, you didn't take your coffee!” John called out after him. Hermann turned, looking flustered still, and before John could say anything else there was a loud bang, a clatter of chairs, a curse, and a thud.

John rushed over to Hermann, who was sprawled out on the ground, drenched in a frappuccino. To his side stood a young girl, who only looked disgruntled by the loss of her drink. John knelt beside his friend, reaching out to touch his shoulder. The man was grimacing, but appeared to be in otherwise working condition.

“Hermann, are you alright? What happened?”

Hermann wiggled his way to sitting just as a barista appeared with a mop, cleaning up the remnants of the frappuccino.

“I'm sorry I knocked your drink out of your hands,” Hermann apologized sincerely, getting to his feet with the aid of John. They were tangled together, and it was a proximity John was not yet wanting to depart from. The young girl pursed her lips but nodded in understanding. “It's alright. I'm just glad you aren't hurt.”

“I'll buy you a new drink,” John said quickly. He was only aware that he was still entangled with Hermann when the shorter man started digging around in his pockets. John stepped aside, embarrassed by his lack of manners.

“I can buy it. You got me that gift card anyway, John. So it's like we’re both paying.”

Hermann’s Converse sneakers squeaked across the floor as John and the young girl followed him to the counter. After several more apologies, the young girl’s drink was replaced. Hermann followed John to his table once more, sitting down with a “humph!”

“I have work later. I can't go like this now. I reek of salted caramel mocha.”

John collected up his belongings, slotting his notebook and pen in their proper pockets. He handed Hermann his forgotten coffee.

“Not an altogether disagreeable smell. But surely you have time to go home and change?”

Hermann sighed. “I take the bus, and there isn't another one for another hour, if it's even on time. Then waiting for another bus, and bus ride to work itself. I'll be way too late.”

“Pardon my suggesting this, as I hope it isn't too forward, but I don't live far, and I wouldn't mind loaning you something to wear. I could even take you to work.”

Hermann seemed to mull over the offer, digesting it slowly, then finally nodding. “If it's not too much trouble? I don't want to inconvenience you. I'm sure you have important writing things...to do…places to go...ducks to meet...write about…”

“Not at all. It's really no trouble.” John smiled, standing and gesturing for Hermann to do the same. Hermann's face lit up, remembering his coffee this time and nearly sprinting outside. He began searching around and turned to John with a quizzical look.

“Which uh...which car is yours?”

John nodded towards his Silverado and frowned when Hermann just stood in place.

“What? Surely you don't think ill of me for driving a truck?”

Hermann slowly shook his head. “No. No it's just. That’s a very expensive truck. It looks new. Like just off the car lot.”

John chuckled, walking towards his truck and pressing the fob to unlock the doors. Hermann finally fell in step behind him. They reached the truck, Hermann struggling to jump into the passenger seat due to its height. John stashed his bag on the seat behind him, and they both strapped in. As their seat belts clicked, John pulled out of his space, glancing at Hermann and smiling sadly.

“I have family inheritance to thank for the truck. I'm the last of the Morris’. That I am aware of. Disowned, cast aside, no contact for years. Until I received a call from the family lawyer. One by one, everyone had passed away. I was an only child, my mother passing away when I was young, and my father being too caught up in his business to give a damn about me. He sent me away to boarding school, and after that I was at Yale. I flunked out and ‘couch hopped,’ as they say. Now I own the family estate.”

Hermann audibly gasped. “Estate? You own an estate?” John shrugged.

“It is better than living on a couch.”

They rode in silence, Hermann twisting in his seat every now and then to get a different view of the outside. The road they followed winded up the side of the nearby hill. After a few minutes, they came to the main gate of John’s home. John pulled out his phone and within a few seconds, the main gate rolled to the side.

Hermann was grinning. “You have a gate. A gate that opens with an app on your phone.” It wasn't a question, just a simple statement. John shrugged as he drove the car up the main drive. They came to the entrance of the estate, an uninviting fortress house of brick and white window panes. Hermann was pressed against the glass window of the truck in awe. “Is it haunted?”

John laughed, putting the car in park and shutting the truck off. He looked over at Hermann and shook his head. “Haunted by me. No ghosts.”

“Oh.” From the way Hermann reacted, it seemed that he had not been hoping for ghosts, but rather had been expecting them. Just as someone would expect a hotel to have a pool.

John led the way up to his front door, punching in his entry code and pushing the door open for Hermann. “After you.”

Hermann walked in slowly, his eyes impossibly large as he scanned the main entryway. John hung his bag on the coat rack inside the door and crouched down to untie his shoes. He wasn't expecting Hermann to remove his shoes, but it was habit on his part.

“I can give you a tour, if you'd like. Or if you'd like to change first. It's up to you.”

Hermann kept looking around, shaking his head slowly as he headed towards the main staircase. “It's mostly dried. A bit crunchy, but I can wait. I’d love a tour. I've never been in a house this big before.”

John nodded, leading the way into the main living room as a start. “Fireplace. A few couches. Nothing fancy.” John was already half-way into the next room, which was the dining room, when he realized he was not being followed. Hermann was sitting on the couch, bouncing ever so slightly up and down. His enjoyment was far too endearing to John.

“I could sleep here! I mean, it's much softer than my bed!” Hermann bounced a few more times before jumping up and finally heading towards the dining room. John laughed softly and shook his head, following behind.

“Do you eat in here?” Hermann asked in amazement at the large space and the frankly ridiculous long dinner table.

“No. I usually just eat in the kitchen or outside on the patio if the weather permits.”

Hermann nodded, staring at John for a few moments. It wouldn't take much to fall victim to that wide-eyed gaze, but Hermann broke the spell, pulling him even further off track from the perfunctory tour. “Your eyes are very blue.”

John blinked a few times at the observation, not quite knowing how to respond. “Yes, I suppose they are.”

Hermann walked closer, slowly and with intent towards John, who felt his heart beating in his throat. “Will you show me the patio?” John startled from his trance at the request, rubbing the back of his neck as Hermann meandered from the dining room to the kitchen.

Hermann slid the large glass doors open when they reached them, not needing much showing around at all. He walked out onto the patio, taking a deep breath of the early fall air, pausing as if deep in thought before he spoke. “You shouldn't live here alone. You shouldn't be lonely. You're too kind. I see you tip the baristas every single day. Sometimes twice. You always hold the door for people.”

John sighed and sat down on a lounge chair. “You are mistaking kindness for manners, Mr. Warm. I know how hard those baristas work. I know that anyone coming in for coffee is in need of it, and they deserve space in the morning.”

“But you are lonely,” Hermann stated frankly.

“You're with me right now.”

“Anyone who wants to spend time with me is after something, it seems. But you're not. I see it in your eyes. No one else spends time with me, therefore...you're lonely. I could be anyone.”

“An interesting hypothesis, but I'm afraid your studies will prove it negative. You have a scientific way of analyzing things for the way they are presented to you. But sometimes you need more evidence before drawing a conclusion.”

Hermann furrowed his brow at this and sat in the chair beside John, leaning back and staring up at the blue sky.

“I’m not wrong though.”

John joined Hermann in looking up at the sky.

“I didn't realize I was lonely until I met you.”

Hermann smirked, taking the answer as a joke. “How so? I still say I could be anyone. You just seek companionship, that’s all.”

John sat up and grabbed Hermann’s arm suddenly, looking at him intently, wanting there to be no mistake about his feelings.

“I seek your companionship. Not someone else’s. Yours.”

“Why?” Hermann’s eyes were searching John’s, as if he could find the answers there as plainly as John written them down.

“Why? Because every single day since the day I first saw you I hoped to see you again. Every single day since we first said ‘hello’ in passing I wanted to hear your voice again. Every single day since you shook my hand I've wanted to touch you again. I'm in love with you Hermann. I might be lonely, but I'm only lonely when you're gone.”

“Huh,” was all Hermann said. John could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He'd let it all out in a flood, a great, gushing, messy, sloppy flood. Any time he'd pictured this moment, it had always fallen more gracefully from his mouth. Like a spring rain. This was just chaotic. Hermann stood up, facing away from John and walking silently toward the house, the whoosh of the door and imminent click telling John he was back inside. He slumped back onto the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face, humiliated by his confession. He'd never see this man again.

After a few minutes in the quiet, John was just about ready to head back inside, to face the fallout of his emotional outburst. He stood and turned, only to come face to face with Hermann through the glass, wearing nothing but John’s favorite fluffy bathrobe and clutching his coffee stained clothing. “I can't find your washing machine anywhere.”

John frowned, somehow getting past his surprise enough to step inside and lead Hermann in the right direction. “It's in the basement...You're doing laundry? I don't mind, but I hadn't expected-”

“We’re boyfriends now, aren't we?”

John couldn't help the laugh that escaped him or the telltale flush creeping up his neck. “I'm not sure that it works that way. Just because I admit to having fallen in love with you doesn't mean-”

“We’re in love. I love you, I mean. I love you too. But I need to do laundry.”

John’s heart leapt at the matter of fact confession, swelling with joy. There was nothing more John wanted now than to shower Hermann with affection, but Hermann, it seemed, wanted to do his laundry first. John flicked on the basement lights, leading Hermann downstairs, who paused on the last step. “This isn't a basement. This is a house. A whole house in your basement. There's another living room and dining room!”

“It is a basement, I assure you. But there are bedrooms, a small kitchen...and a bathroom. This way,” John said with a smirk, leading Hermann to the laundry room.

John stood aside as Hermann marveled at the washing machine, touching all the dials and finding just the right setting before dumping his clothes in. He took his time selecting detergent, finally settling on ‘fresh spring meadow’ and dumping his clothes in. He peered through the clear glass front to watch his clothes swish around a few times before he turned back to John. “Will you take me to your bedroom? Or your yacht. Wherever it is you keep your clothes.”

John smirked a nudged Hermann as he walked by him. “Smart ass. It's a walk-in closet.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hermann laughed as he shoved back.

They walked upstairs, playfully shoving each other every now and then, laughing and panting by the time they reached the top of the stairs. “If it snowed in here, you could ski down the stairs!” Hermann exclaimed.

“I'll keep that in mind,” John smirked back at Hermann. They came to the master bedroom, the door already open. The room was meticulously organized, except for a small writing desk in front of the largest window where several notebooks were laid out. Hermann immediately jumped on the bed, John averting his gaze so as not to see too much of what the bathrobe couldn't conceal. He knew Hermann wasn't jumping on the bed to be mischievous or playful: he was examining the bed’s construction by giving it a stress test.

While Hermann was occupied, John opened the door to his walk-in closet and started peeking around. He grabbed the first pair of jeans and plain t-shirt he could find and called out to Hermann.

“Will a t-shirt and jeans be suitable for you?” John asked distractedly, not noticing that the bouncing on the bed had ceased.

John felt his breath catch as arms wrapped around him and a soft head rubbed against his neck.

“Nothing for right now, thank you,” Hermann teased softly.

John tried to swallow, but found his mouth to be incredibly dry.

“I thought you had places to be?”

“Not now. Plenty of time. Please?”

If John had any doubts as to Hermann’s intentions, they were subsided when he felt the brush of lips and against his neck. It was as if every molecule in his body was ramming into one another, causing a reaction of nuclear proportions.

“Hermann...you really mean this? I don't want you to feel obligated, or pressured or anything of the sort. This is all of your own volition? You want to be with me?”

Hermann hummed in his ear, his lips brushing across skin until John felt teeth against his neck and then felt his skin being sucked on. He couldn't control the moan that escaped him, his knees nearly buckling. Hermann let go and grabbed John’s hand, pulling him around to face him.

“I want this. You. Always. The silent observer. But I've been watching you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You made it this far! And technically? They still haven't kissed after 3,777 words.
> 
> I tried to incorporate a little more characterization from the novel, especially with Warm, and I hope that worked. 
> 
> Up next? Smut? Maybe? Check back for a ratings change.


End file.
